2300

1800

ARRRRGGGGHHHHHH FACKEYRUHFJOSJH GRRRRRRRRRRRR FACKDSPAKDWJFWJKHCAIJHFIJARGH

1200

0930

0700

Catch up

Erk

I woke up at 0430 this morning feeling more awake; brighter than I have felt for a few weeks. November has a lot to answer for.
Without any work commitments to think about, we went out to stare at the rough, churned up water; the swell of the past few days of stormy weather still running. Another good day to be ashore.
Hoardes of ponies were out along the roads of the still slightly flooded New Forest. They must have been glad for a break in the wet weather and a chance to come out of the woodland and block everyone's way.
There were also little gangs of pigs tearing around. They were brought into the forest a few months ago, as this Summer's unusually consistent warmth has created an abundance of acorns. Whilst highly poisonous to the ponies, they are the makings of piggy heaven and I very much doubt whether anyone will be able to catch them until they've snaffled the very last one.

Overfalls kept breaking over the quay. Fur found this particularly amusing, as whilst they weren't big enough to sweep anyone off their feet, I thought otherwise

Turbo pone

Hotter than Hades

This evening, for only the second time since we met, I granted Fur full custody of the (read my) kitchen and the task of dinner!
I'm an interfering git, unable to let him get on with cooking without tugging at his apron strings and am rather proud of the fact that I left him alone to make the best erk chicken, veggies and tortillas I have ever eaten. Honest. I didn't even glance wantonly at the hob or the griddle pan.
The taste was fantastic. The burning? Volcanic.
All totally organic/orgasmic and indescribable.
I am currently posting mid-next attempt, as the roof of my mouth will spontaneously combust, I'm certain, if I try to eat another too soon.

Apologies

For my lack of bloogy interaction.
All shall be corrected once I am feeling slightly less normal.

Fuff out.

Food

I'm slightly busy and pissed orf but I have a new fab bloog to plug, so here goes...

www.bloggerworldcooking.blogspot.com

is an idea belonging to Pat.

It's an open invitation for the many foodies of the bloog world to share their favourite recipes.
Strictly no tapioca and semolina allowed tho..... I hope.

Sniffle

The wrong shoes

Last night we met up with some friends for dinner.
After the past week it felt good to go out and relax with some decent company. We haven't seen each other for a while and had plenty of catching up to do, far away from recent niggles and problems that have been wearing us down.
After a nice meal and a few glasses of wine, we swiped some helium balloons a party had left behind and trotted down to their boat for a nightcap or three, initially laughing ourselves silly by inhaling the contents of the balloons and blabbering in ridiculously high pitched voices.
By 4am, Fur and I decided it was probably a good idea to stagger home before we became incapable of traversing the pontoons, well aware of the hangover implications if we didn't get our heads down for some sleep sharpish.
I followed him out, pausing to negotiate the large gap between the bathing platform and the pontoon and as I took a second step, my right heel buckled on the edge and in I plunged.
It felt like a while before I surfaced, utterly disorientated and weighed down by my clothes.
Fur and one of our friends promptly grabbed hold of me and hauled me out. I lay flat for a few seconds before getting on my feet and was frog marched home and straight into the shower. Thankfully, I hadn't swallowed any water and wasn't shivering, not in long enough to suffer any symptoms of hypothermia and the shower warmed me up and hopefully rinsed any mullet and botulism out of my hair.
I'm usually very careful and rarely go down to the boat without my deck shoes. I guess this was all the proof I needed that heels and boats don't get on with one another.
I'm extremely relieved that nobody else was about at the time, as aside from the bruises I am counting, I'd never have lived this gaffe down.

Inconveniences

I don't think I've ever seen so much rain here in one day.
I woke up this morning to a full on gale and the theme of blowing old boots (pardon the euphemism) continued throughout the afternoon with the addition of torrential downpours.
The New Forest ponies looked so utterly fed up, they just stood in the rain and grimaced. It was far too wet to take any pictures, or open windows as I discovered on the the way back.
All I wanted was a little fresh air, as we created a bow wave, driving through a heavily flooded part of the road. Unfortunately for me, another vehicle pulled up and a jet of water came blasting through the 3 inch gap I had left, soaking my hair and face before I had the chance to close the window. Git.
I also managed to lose the stylus for my funky phone thing somewhere down the side of the seat and am relying on a sharp fingernail to play Bubble Breaker.

You don't have to be famous

As mentioned some time ago, I am unfortunate enough to have my very own stalker.
He keeps a fairly low profile, only appearing every so often to remind me that he is still there. I haven't seen him for almost 5 years and yet he appears not to have tired.
The past few weeks have been stressy and unpredictable. I was looking forward to the weekend, to unwind and enjoy some peace and quiet. This however was not to be, as I received a message on Saturday morning, an ultimatum no less; ordering me to contact him by phone or he will come and find me.
He is apparently using a web based programme in a perverse attempt to be able to track my whereabouts via my mobile phone, though thankfully, the only number he knows hasn't been activated for some time.
Although initially freaked out somewhat, neither I, nor Fur are worried, just furious. I spoke to the police for the first time about it and have been advised accordingly.
The most irritating part of the advice was a warning not to communicate in anyway with the creep. I have a maddening itch to call the bastard and tear several strips off him, but I shouldn't. Bullies thrive on attention, it's their only source of power.
Take away attention and render the perpetrator weak.
This of course is dependant on whether one is dealing with a coward or a psychopath, the latter being a slightly more complicated matter. Fingers crossed.

Drivel

My internet connection has been surprisingly upgraded to 8 meg. I'm not sure what exactly I'm supposed to do with all that bandwidth, aside from blink and stare whilst pages load faster than your hat.
Also, whilst shopping for glasses yesterday, we bought a new duvet. You know how it is.
It's about half the weight of the old one that now temporarily resides in a large bin; is twice as thick and ever so warm and comfy.
I wasn't sure whether I would get on with the thing after standing on the bed and almost catapulting through the window as the cover slipped under my feet, but I didn't want to get up this morning. I was in duvet heaven.
Could new bedding be better than Valium? Answers please on a postcard from anyone who's tried both.

The Fog

For the past two nights, the furthest I have been able to see outside has been about ten metres - i.e. four masts. When we first moved here it unsettled me and I used to keep a watchful eye on the possibility of a flickering lantern appearing through the murk.
It's still and very quiet aside from ship's fog horns continuously blaring out at various pitches and the clang clang of halyards as the odd swell pushes in through the marina entrance.
This is November as it's supposed to be.
Of course if sailing, the above is very very unimaginably bad, especially in the Solent where chances of collision are squillirupled compared to other less busy stretches of water. Not a good place to be without radar as we learnt on two occasions. Once on our way out of the Beaulieu river, another time moving outside Portsmouth Harbour. On both counts, it was unforecast. Sometimes it just appears and leaves you powerless, unable to do anything other than keep watch and stay quiet.
The first time, we were pretty calm about it. We switched the engine off so as to be able to hear any oncoming boats and managed to turn back and pick up a mooring until visibility improved. Fur sat at the bow and I helmed; my concentration broken by a seal that decided to silently sneak up behind the boat and bark loudly just aft of the steering position. Needless to say, I was in need of a change of oilskins before we finally left.
The second time, we were on my mum's boat and had just cast off for the weekend. An opaque bank of very thick fog was waiting for us just outside the harbour. Bearing in mind that along with many pleasure craft; cross-channel vessels, hovercraft, fast catamarans and island ferries use this narrow entrance and we were slightly panicked until we managed to navigate our way into a 'safer' area of water. We moved on more than quickly when an extremely big aforementioned vessel loomed out of nowhere at a distance of less than a hundred metres from our starboard side. I don't think I've ever seen my mum so frightened in all my life.
Guess what she went out and bought the following week?

Lock up your dogs

For the past week I have been suffering from Blooger's Elbow. A condition known to affect mostly laptop users of the Bloog world. A feeble excuse, but not a lie, although the previous week's bout of bird flu didn't stop me..
To be honest, I just haven't really felt like it.
Tomorrow is Guy Fawkes Night. The annual celebration of the foiling of the Gunpowder Plot and demise of the man whose intentions to blow up the Houses of Parliament in 1605 failed.
Whether a good or bad thing, it would have been a shame to destroy such a wonderful piece of architecture and London's tourists would have lost out on their favourite landmark from which to pose in front of. HP sauce wouldn't have been invented either, a good reason for them to stay if there ever was one.
Fireworks, obviously, are the main theme and bonfires; never complete without the addition of the all important Guy, a stuffed effigy of Mr Fawkes himself that's ceremoniously and contemptuously burnt on the night.
Most firework displays have been organised for this evening. As I type, the sound of a bazillion pyrotechnics is reverberating around the marina and my thoughts are with all the poor terrified dogs that will no doubt be attempting to crawl under the feet of their owners.